Just Another Day
by Icwer
Summary: A brief peek into the life of one of the few survivors left in the world. *Note: This is the first fanfic I've written and I wrote it from my 'own' perspective to help me write it, not because I think I'm 'the awesome' or something like that. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Someone or something was sitting in the booth of the bus stop.

"Interesting." I said to myself.

I lifted the sniper rifle in my hands and peered with one eye through the scope on top of the weapon. It took me a couple of seconds to find the booth with my limited field of vision, but soon my crosshair was centred on the figure's chest.

_Thank God, it's a some_one._ I've been bumping into way too many Mutants lately._

Whilst listening for strange noises in my vicinity, I further investigated the stranger. He was male, Caucasian with a slight tan and had a shaved head. He was around my age (20), a bit taller than me (1.70 metres) and we shared the same build (normal/light posture).

One thing that caught my attention was his clothes, which looked too new and clean for someone living on a post-apocalyptic planet of death. My smudged, stained and torn dark-green cargo pants, matching jacket and brown hoodie underneath aforementioned jacket were in stark contrast to his assemble: he was wearing thick light-brown winter pants that looked freshly washed and a lined sweater in matching colour. On his feet were brand-new walking shoes, my worn and travel-stained black army boots looking like a disgrace in comparison. Another thing I noticed besides his clothing was his personal appearance; he looked clean shaven and not a speck of dirt was on his skin, whereas I hid a stubble of a beard behind a green woollen scarf and a tangled mass of brown, curly hair underneath the hood of my sweater.

The unknown man was sitting on the bench of a long-decommissioned bus stop and was just staring ahead of him, smiling. It was not a 'broad-as-your-face-white-teeth-sparkling'-smile, but definitely a smile, his teeth hidden behind his lips. If it wasn't for the smile I would have guessed the slack was dead, seeing as how the guy didn't move a millimetre during the brief period of observation. Then, suddenly, the stranger moved, reaching into the sack that was beside him on the bench and pulled out something wrapped in tinfoil. He unwrapped the object almost delicately and in it was a sandwich... The slack had a freaking sandwich?! Here in this godforsaken Wasteland, where everyone had to make do with powdered rations and bowel-destroying water, _this _guy was munching away a 'finger-licking-oh-God-that-looks-tasty'-sandwich.

"Very interesting." I told myself, and slowly got up from my prone position. I jumped backwards like a frog, down a hill made of unsorted rubble inside a destroyed two-story office building. I made my observation post on the first floor of the building due to the fact that the second story was missing its bottom. I crawled through the hole in the wall at the foot of the artificial hill and found myself in the dark alley behind the destroyed construction. I went down the alleyway to the left and followed it to the point where alley became street. I pressed my back against the wall of my temporary shelter and followed the bricks until I reached the front-right corner of the decayed structure. I stuck my head a couple of centimetres out of the alleyway and scanned the area. There were a few more buildings, or what remained of them anyway, adjoining the street, the latter strewn with garbage, rubble and slightly destroyed cars. As far as I could see, the man on the bench was the only living creature around. I popped my head back into the darkness of the alley and allowed myself to think for a minute or two.

_I have two options: either I take up my position again on that hill and end the guy's life or__ I just walk up to him and strike up a friendly conversation... The first option would require me to use one of my few rounds of ammunition remaining and make a bloody mess of things, the second one has the chance of _me_ getting killed but could possibly lead me to real food..._

My empty stomach and neglected taste buds decided the matter for me. I sighed and slung my rifle over my right shoulder, after which I removed the scarf covering the lower half of my face. I dropped my arms to my sides, made sure my side arm was within easy reach and stepped out of the shadows.

I was approximately 100 metres away from the mysterious stranger, but the slack turned his head towards me as soon as I took one step out of the alleyway, raised his right arm and waved.

_How the hell is this guy still alive?_

Though suspicious of his behaviour I made my way towards him at a steady pace. As I was closing the distance between us, my eyes darted in every direction, on the lookout for any signs of a trap. The man on the bench never moved, never turned his head and never stopped smiling.


	2. Chapter 2

When I was no more than ten metres away from him, I raised my right arm in greeting and, unsure of what else to say, said "Hello there." The stranger put his hands, together with his now half-eaten sandwich, in his lap and responded with a friendly and hearty "Hello there yourself".

He was still smiling and I couldn't help but smile back. I was now three metres away from him and decided that this was about as close as I wanted to be. A couple of seconds of silence passed and the unknown man decided to continue the awkward conversation by asking "What is your name wanderer?"

"You can call me William." I replied.

"Nice to meet you William, my name is John. What brings you to visit little old me?"

"Well, I was just wandering around these parts and I couldn't help but notice, whilst surveying the area, you sitting here all alone and..." _Don't say defenceless!_ "...eating." _Nice save. _

John's smile grew wider; he opened his mouth and let out a loud chuckle.

"Well, you're right there," John said after his chuckle died "I am eating and, seeing as how your reason for coming here is that fact, I suppose you want some too?"

My stomach answered by growling in acknowledgement and John let out another chuckle. Embarrassed, I started to scratch the back of my head and replied "You got me there I'm afraid, but I'm not here to take or beg; I would like to trade whatever interests you to whatever food you have left."

"I'm sorry," John replied "I don't do trading."

_Kill me now._

"But!" John gleefully said "I do do giving."

_I would like to retract that last request._

"You don't have to..." I started, but John interrupted me: "Oh nonsense, here just let me..." And with that he grabbed a small knife from his pack and started to cut away the parts he had eaten. Within seconds the sandwich was neatly cut and John offered me that little piece of heaven.

I stepped forward eagerly, almost desperately, reaching out for the small piece of bread. Before I grabbed it, however, common sense finally kicked in and I stopped in front of John whilst I slung my backpack over one shoulder.

"You wouldn't mind me scanning this first, right?" I inquired "Not that I don't trust you or anything."

"By all means," John replied "Can't be too careful nowadays now can we?"

I allowed myself a short chuckle and pulled the ScanBoy© out of my pack. It was one of the last pieces of Old Technology around and I found it hidden in a safe somewhere. The scanner was the size of a packet of cigarettes and shared the same weight. The little machine and I had an agreement: I made sure I kept it working despite the harsh environment, and he saves my life whenever he can.

Resisting the urge to wolf down the entire sandwich in one bite, I accepted the food in John's hand and scanned it. The ScanBoy© would detect any substances that would result in sickness, paralysation, death, or any other bodily misfortune. After a minute, the scanner beeped and three green lights indicated that the scanned item did, in fact, not contain anything that could be a nuisance.

I looked at John and asked, for confirmation "You sure?"

"Please, eat!" he responded, looking genuinely like someone who was doing someone else a big favour.

I nodded, took a bite and the world around me was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

All the hardship, pain, suffering, and general discomfort I endured on a daily basis was gone, all replaced by the taste sensations taking over my tongue. A parade of flavours, a circus of tastes and other happy events involving gustation occurred in my mouth. I tasted the sweet, sweet bread, the juicy meat and…

_Is that pickle?_

I quickly lifted up one slice of the white bread and my suspicion was confirmed; the sight of the green slices almost making me cry.

_You can kill me now._

Turning my face towards the man I now regarded as someone resembling an angel, I saw a look of happiness spread across his face. I opened my mouth to express my so far forgotten gratitude, but John lifted his hand and said "You can thank me after you swallow, friend."

It took me a couple of minutes before I allowed myself to swallow, however, seeing as how I wanted to savour the taste of real food for as long as possible. When I did swallow the now liquid food, I decided not to gorge myself on the rest of the sandwich but to thank John properly.

"Words cannot express my gratitude towards you John." I said melodramatically.

"Nonsense," he replied modestly "You don't have to thank me for anything. You should thank The One who made that sandwich."

I didn't like the way he emphasized The One, making it sound as if 'The One" was a person and not a general reference.

"I was wondering about that," I said perhaps a bit too suspicious "where _did _you get this, John?"

John stood up suddenly, my body taking a reflexive step backwards in response.

"I shall answer that question with a question, William." he said with one finger pointed to the sky in a "Eureka!" sort of way. "Have you ever heard of the Worshippers of Brho'tak?"

_Crap Shit Fuck, nonono, bad, this is really really bad._

"I might have heard some rumours." I answered whilst taking another step back and lowering both my arms at the same time; my left taking the sandwich away from my mouth, the right moving towards the direction of my side arm.

John looked at my moving arms and then back at me. "You look scared William," he said "seems that what you've heard wasn't that pleasant." His smile changed into a sadistic grin. I had every reason to be scared: the Worshippers of Brho'tak had gained a very notorious reputation in a very short amount of time.

Rumour has it they worship some kind of giant super-mutant that has taken residence in one of the many bomb craters around. It's said to be as big as a three-story building, to have brown rubbery skin that oozes slime constantly and that it's able to shoot lasers from tentacles. While some of these 'facts' may have been a tad exaggerated, there is one undisputed fact: these Worshippers are really fucking dangerous.

However, the 'citation needed'-facts are that, for one, Brho'tak is supposedly able to make anything out of anything via the use of his hyper-evolved digestive system. It is said that anyone who requests something of His Digestiveness merely has to think about it, feed Him a random object and wait a couple of hours. Then, Brho'tak will excrete a 'spherical object' and with the addition of water that 'object' will change into the desired object. This all sounds pretty good, except for the excretion part, until the process of request is revealed; in order for Brho'tak to take your request he has to penetrate your skull with one of his limbs and mess around in your brains. And, yes: that "messing around" is a synonym for sex.

Whilst all this _does _lead to the getting what you want part, you might experience a lack of free will and the urge to obey Mr. Stool for the rest of your life as an side effect. Even though all this is disputed, it does support the second known fact concerning Worshippers: every last one of them has a hole the size of a golf ball in his head.

"Say, John," I asked hesitantly "would you mind turning your head a little?"

"No problem, friend." John replied and turned his head to the right. A small hole, about the size of a standard golf ball, was in the back of his head, the flesh outlining it black and rotten.

_Great._

I dropped the sandwich, pulled my sidearm out of its holster and aimed it at John's head. He turned his head back at me, his grin even more sadistic than before.

"Don't make me shoot you John," I shouted, "just walk away and we'll both live to see another day."

"That's an interesting weapon you've got there William." John observed.

The weapon he referred to was something I made myself. Basically, it is a very short double-barrelled shotgun turned sideways. It has a pistol grip and two triggers next to one another. The right trigger would fire the shell in the upper barrel, the shell in question being ordinary buckshot. The lower barrel contained something a little more interesting however; a metal slug. Launched at a high velocity, it would prove very deadly at close range.

"Trust me," I warned John, "I won't miss from this distance."

John's grin, still sadistic, transformed into a smile that grew broader and broader until I would count every tooth in his mouth.

"From this," John said almost euphorically, "I conclude that you haven't heard the great news yet?"

I raised an eyebrow and opened my mouth to ask him what the hell he was talking about, but John continued before I could inquire.

"Brho'tak has evolved!" he said, raising his arms like an enthusiastic priest. "He can give much more than just goods now!"

I blinked and John's face was suddenly in front of me, mere centimetres away. His left hand grabbing my right wrist and pushed it, together with the gun, away from him. His right hand was on my lower left arm, the arm now moving down to my left side and no longer supporting my weapon.

I struggled to break free from his grip, but it felt like my arms were encased in cement. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins, fear and shock releasing a steady supply of the ever-so-helpful hormone.

John's mouth opened, his humid breath pouring over my face like a small cloud, and said "So",

His grip on my wrist tightened, the sudden pain making me drop my gun.

"much",

He shifted his grip, allowing him to bend my wrist in a direction that was everything but the right one. By now, I was screaming in agony.

"MORE!"

I heard something snap and an unimaginable pain shot through my wrist, causing the volume of my screaming to increase a couple of decibels. John was laughing as loud as I was screaming and released his iron hold on my limbs. I made a grab for my broken wrist with my left hand thinking that, somehow, that would relieve the pain. Suddenly, John's hands were on me again, this time grabbing handfuls of the cotton my jacket was made off. He pulled me towards him with a quick jerk and threw me away in an arc, flinging me against the front of a building that was across the street. I put an arm between my head and the impending brick in reflex, but unfortunately I used the wrong arm. My already broken wrist landed between the back of my head and the unyielding wall, the second burst of pain giving the impression that it was broken all over again. The pack on my back absorbed most of the impact meant for my spine, but I heard some objects break and felt something poke in the area around my left kidney.

Sliding down the wall and landing on my arse, the rifle slung over my shoulder fell off and landed sideways on the ground beside me. Stars were swirling before my eyes and it was getting dark at the edges of my vision. I knew I had to stay awake or become a drone without a will, much like John, for the rest of my then unnatural life.

I wriggled myself out of the straps of the backpack, grunted when my hurting wrist bumped against the pack and grabbed the sniper rifle lying next to me with my left hand. Using the weapon as a crutch, the barrel pointing down, I lifted myself from the ground whilst my body complained in the process.

During my rise, John didn't seem to be in a particular hurry. From the few glimpses I caught of him, it seemed as if he was shuffling his way forward, the smile now back on his face.

The world was spinning a little when I finally managed to stand up. I leaned back against the wall with which I was pleasantly introduced a few seconds earlier, and steadied myself against it. I lifted the rifle in my hand, levelled it, and pointed the barrel in John's general direction.

The Follower stopped in his tracks, looked somewhat surprised and started to laugh.

_He has every reason to be amused; I'm using a two-handed weapon with one hand, my off hand even__. There is only one round in the chamber, which will be my only shot seeing as how it is impossible for me to use the bolt lever to reload another. To top this all off, I have no way to aim properly, making my one and only shot a matter of luck instead of skill._

"Fuck." I murmured between grasping breaths.

John stopped laughing and continued his walk towards me, his confidence probably fuelled by him knowing my current ammo-predicament.

"Just give up William," he said triumphantly, "we both know that there is a snowball's chance in hell that you'll actually hit me right now." He was getting closer and closer, it wouldn't be long before he reached me. My rifle was wavering, my left arm becoming numb from its unusual position. I closed my right eye and started to take aim.

"Are you serious?" John asked perplexed, but the surprise did not halt him. "I admire your resilience and so will Brho'tak once you join us. You WILL join us William, that one bullet is not going to change that fact. Come peacefully friend, a day's walk and everything you can imagine will be yours."

He sounded friendly and sincere, I held my breath.

"Join us Will…"

He couldn't finish that sentence, due to the fact that his brains were now scrambled, perforated and just generally out of commission thanks to the bullet that had entered his skull. The bullet left a hole in John's forehead to accompany the one in the back of his head, but this one was a lot smaller. John looked at me for a second and then slumped.

My left arm slung downwards, no longer capable of holding the weight of the sniper rifle. I was probably looking confused as hell because I couldn't believe I just shot John…in his forehead! Glee replaced confusion, and all I could do was laugh, laugh and laugh some more. This euphoric feeling went away as soon as the adrenaline in my veins could no longer suppress the pains in my body, all of them screaming for attention. I grimaced and looked at my right wrist; it was stuck in an odd angle and I was pretty sure it required some medical attention.

I wedged the rifle between me and the ground, used my still operational hand to chamber a new round and slung the firearm over my shoulder. I picked up my backpack and, with caution, put my arms through the straps. My back was protesting to this event by sending jolts of pain up my spine.

The barrel of my gun was pointing towards John's body as the gun hung horizontally at my left side, my hand on the trigger. I made my way towards him, and as I approached I made sure here wasn't moving, making sounds or anything else a dead body shouldn't be doing. When I reached him, I confirmed that he was, in fact, dead. He looked like any other body I had encountered lying around in the Wasteland, Brho'tak did not change that. I started at the little hole I made in his head and found it interesting there was so little blood.

"Lucky me…" I mumbled to no one in particular.

I left the body where it lay and made my way to my side arm that was lying a couple of metres away. Not respecting the recently deceased, I grabbed John's pack that stood on the bench and hung it on a plastic hook attached to the side of my backpack.

"Bye John." I said as I left the site of the fight, next stop: nearest settlement. I turned my head to make sure the body was still there. It was.

As I walked, I looked up at the already reddening sky. It would not be long before it would be dark, but the settlement I had in mind was not far away, so I made no haste to get there.

After walking for about three hundred metres I turned around and looked back for the last time. John's body was still there, already attracting scavengers that were previously hidden in the rubble surrounding the small and briefly used battlefield.

_Just another day…_

I turned around again and walked.


End file.
